


Showdown

by orphan_account



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Humiliation, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 10:34:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4097752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phi Phi O'Hara and Willam Belli had a rocky relationship during the fourth season of RuPaul's Drag Race. Despite getting further in the competition, Phi Phi can't help but feel like Willam got the best of him. Post Drag-Race, the audience is definitely Team Willam, and Phi Phi resents the older queen's charm and fame. After Willam publicly humiliates him at a club in Los Angeles, he inexplicably invites Phi Phi to his hotel room. What could possibly happen between these two famously bitchy queens once they're alone together without cameras?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Showdown

**Author's Note:**

> Willam Belli and Jaremi Carey are both real people, as are the other queens mentioned within, and I do not own them. No disrespect is intended!  
> Please note that the following contains some violence and rough sex with mildly dubious consent.

He wasn’t normally a violent person, but everything about Willam Belli made Jaremi Carey, a.k.a. Phi Phi O’Hara, want to pound his face to a bloody pulp.

The dumb blonde’s voice was grating, and his face was like a polished marble statue. With makeup, he was ham-fisted and relied on his admittedly strong bone structure to fix the sloppy dark colours he threw on his eyes like a child finger painting. His beard always threatened to take over his face in drag, no matter how much crap he painted on his ugly mug. His body was admittedly glorious, although Phi Phi suspected the shallow bitch was either anorexic or bulimic. Despite his lack of talent and inexplicable legions of fans, Phi Phi would have been willing to give a fake smile and ignore it all if it weren’t for Willam’s attitude. He was a braggart, a trash-talker, and a shameless slut. A rich classless cunt. 

Also, he was beautiful. Which might have been the worst part of all. 

Tonight, at the Roxxanne – a big but somewhat exclusive night club/strip joint – Willam was sitting close to the main stage in full drag. He (it was almost impossible for Phi Phi to think of Willam as a ‘she’ with that beard shadow and his total lack of drag character) was wearing tall nude Louboutin pumps and sitting in such a way that the red bottoms were impossible to miss. A silky royal blue dress clung to his shapely figure and just barely covered his ass. Ruby-painted lips pursed delicately as he surveyed the crowd with a smug, superior look on his face as a gaggle of fellow queens squawked and gobbled around him. He kept smirking in amusement and fluffing his hair, occasionally leaning forward to deliver some snappy line that set his hens cackling with laughter. _Does he think he’s a valley girl?_ Phi Phi wondered, irritated at Willam’s flippant, immature act. What did other people ever see in him?

It was incredibly unfair that people actually supported Willam over Phi Phi during Drag Race. The edited footage was manipulated to show Willam in a more positive light, and the only thing that mollified Phi Phi was getting to see Willam barf onstage and get kicked off the show for breaking contract. It had been the sweetest moment of his career so far. Fucking Willam.

“– and here’s Willam!” the burly club announcer/DJ suddenly shouted, making Phi Phi jump. Good god, what had that skank done now? But the announcer just seemed to be trying to rev up the crowd and maybe kill time before the first performance. The announcer, a thickset but feminine man with bulging arms covered in tattoos and a crop of thick jet-black hair, trotted eagerly down the stage towards Willam, holding out his hand. Willam took it and stood up, teetering a bit on his towering heels. Too much booze, as usual. He recovered with grace and smoothed his short dress over his butt as he stepped up onto the stage amidst a chorus of excited claps. The announcer smiled and put a comradely arm around the queen’s shoulder, to which Willam responded by grabbing the front of the man’s skin-tight shorts. The noise of the crowd rose to near-deafening levels as Willam preened and posed.

“Willam, always a pleasure. In more ways than one!” The crowd laughed dutifully. “How you doin’, girl! You look amazing! Wow, that dress!”

Willam leaned forward to be near the microphone. “Of course I look good. Is anyone really surprised?” He ran his hands down the tight blue dress. “This is Gucci, it’s brand-new. And these sickening babies are Louboutins!” He raised his foot in the air and shook the red bottom at the adoring audience.

“Label whore!” 

“Guilty!” Willam grinned. “Again, no surprise there!”

“Well, it IS a surprise to see you here! You’ve been so busy lately.”

“I’m a working girl, what can I say? I’ve got a new album coming out, live shows sold out worldwide, I'm an Americal Apparel Ad Girl and a Magnum girl, the third season of the Beatdown is coming – ” screams and cheers echoed from all corners of the building at this – “and I’ve barely seen my husband in weeks. I just got back from Australia, actually.”

“Australia! You were there with…”

“Alaska and Courtney.”

“I love them! Are there any other famous queens here tonight?” the announcer asked. “Where’s that big chocolate goddess Latrice? I heard you did a collab with her for your new album.”

“Girl, you could spot Latrice from halfway across the city! She ain’t here, I’m sorry. She got stuck in the Wendy’s drive-through.” The crowd laughed. “No, no, I’m just playin’! I love her. You guys all need to go watch my new single ‘Thick Thighs’ on Youtube if you need more Latrice in your lives!”

“That track is on fire! So hot!” the announcer exclaimed. “Do it, guys, do what she tells you!”

 _More like it sounds like someone’s cat got set on fire,_ Phi Phi thought, his mouth tightening into a thin line as Willam droned on about his upcoming album. _At least the talentless little troll finally did an original song all by himself for once instead of ripping off real celebrities._ At that moment, Willam’s gaze suddenly landed right on him. His eyes widened in surprise for one brief moment before his features settled back into a malicious smile.

“Oooh, hold up, look who else came by to see me! Hi Phi Phi!” Willam warbled into the mic. “Phi Phi O’Hara, remember her? Neither did I till I recognized that bitch face!”

The crowd chuckled. Heads turned towards Phi Phi, and he felt his face turning red with rage. “Fuck you, Willam!” he yelled, but over the noise of the club, nobody could hear him. So he gave a middle finger instead.

“Phi Phi O’Hara, everybody!” Willam called. “Give the poor thing a round of applause, she hasn’t had any attention since she lost to Miss Sharon Needles years ago!”

The crowd roared and clapped and Phi Phi went from red to purple. Willam did a mock bow, handed the mic back to the sexy tattooed announcer, and sat back down amongst his friends. Someone passed him a new drink immediately. Tossing his hair behind his shoulders smugly, Willam lifted the shot glass and gulped it down without even looking at who had bought it for him. _I hope whoever gave that to you fucking roofie’d it._

The crowd quickly forgot all about Phi Phi and were listening to the announcer present some other performer, but the firey rage flooding through Phi Phi’s body made it impossible to hear what was going on. He only had eyes for Willam, soaking up the attention of his ass-kissing friends. _What I wouldn’t do to see you drop dead._ His eyes narrowed into slits as he gleefully imagined Willam tripping and falling on the runway, or getting a bucket of paint thrown on his best Westwood gown, or falling off the stage and breaking a leg. Or of someone setting fire to his entire wig collection. And to the wig still on his head.

 _Careful, don’t let yourself go too crazy,_ Phi Phi admonished himself. _He’ll ruin himself one day. He’ll crash and burn soon…or die of syphilis. Nasty come rag._

A grin broke out across Willam’s big manly jaw as he made eye contact with Phi Phi again. Phi Phi flushed, embarrassed to have been caught staring a second time. The blonde blew him a kiss and then gave him some stupid flirty little finger-wave. Abruptly, Phi Phi stalked towards the bar to order something strong enough to wash the taste of Willam out of his mouth. The rest of his miserable evening was spent drinking whiskey sours in between straight shots and scowling heavily at anyone who seemed to be giggling at him. Soon he had a pounding headache and his stomach was complaining about all the sugar and alcohol. What he had intended to be a fun night out socializing and maybe picking up a guy that seemed cute and funny had turned into the worst night Phi Phi had in years. 

_Fuck this, I’m leaving,_ he finally decided. Just as he’d squeezed his way through the hordes of sweaty dancing sluts and semi-celebrities and made to the doors, a commotion followed him. It was Willam and his entourage, apparently having made the same decision as Phi Phi. The younger man quickly stepped into the shadows. He didn’t want to try and fight with Willam when he felt so shitty and buzzed. Likely he’d just be made a bigger fool of. He stared dumbly down at his phone and waited for the gang of tipsy queens to pass, praying nobody would notice him.

A voice right next to his ear made Phi Phi’s head jerk up. It was one of the queens in Willam’s little party, a sexy little Latina who Phi Phi didn’t recognize. “Oh, Willam said to give you this,” she said with a smirk. She flicked some small piece of paper in Phi Phi’s direction and sashayed through the doors and out into the hot and humid summer night.

The item was, in fact, a signed photo of Willam blowing a kiss to the camera. On the back, scrawled in garish pink pen, was the name of a hotel and a room number.

 _Phi Phi – I know you love getting the last word, so come try your luck a second time. I’ll be here after midnight. Come over…if you have the balls to face me alone. XOXO Willam._ A sloppy lipstick stain adorned the corner.

Phi Phi crumpled the photo in his hand and stood very still for a few long moments, debating. He hailed the first taxi that passed and gave the address of his own hotel. First things first – he needed a long, hot shower. And while he was in there, he’d consider Willam’s proposal. It was interesting, to say the least. Getting the last word…well, that certainly would be sweet. Maybe this night wouldn’t be so bad after all.

\--

Several hours later, Phi Phi stood in front of the Historic Magnolia Hotel & Spa, wondering what the fuck he was doing and whether or not this was some sort of prank.

The woman at the desk, a cranky-looking woman in her late twenties with awful cotton-candy lipstick and spiral curls, gave him a big fake smile when he walked in. Her teeth were too clean and too square to be anything but veneers. She looked doubtful when Phi Phi politely asked if he could just go on up to his friend’s room, but she called the room number Willam had given Phi Phi and spoke briskly for a few moments. When she hung up, her sour look was gone and a bright smile was plastered in its place once more. “He told me that you can come up. It’ll be the last door on your left when you get off the elevator on the fourth floor.” The smile widened. “Are you a friend of his? I love Willam! I recognized him as soon as he walked in and I asked for an autograph. He’s so sweet! He even offered to take a photo with me!”

Phi Phi forced himself to smile back. “Oh, yeah, we’re…friends. We used to work together.”

“Oh my gosh, are you a drag queen too? That’s so cool!” she gushed, and Phi Phi felt the sting of humiliation at her complete lack of recognition. “I’m sorry, sir, you look like you’re in a rush. I’m acting all star-struck. Please don’t let me keep you.”

“It’s alright, ma’am.” _You stupid bitch,_ he thought. _An autograph from a washed-up troll and you’re acting like you won the damn lottery._ Out loud, he just said, “Have a nice day.”

The sound of his own teeth grinding together as he punched the button for the elevator was loud enough to spark the beginnings of a headache. How could she not have recognized Phi Phi too? _I was better on Drag Race than Willam. I made it to the top three! Everybody knows who I am! I would have won if people didn’t feel sorry for Sharon Needles, the fabulous one-trick Party City James St. James wannabe._ Maybe Willam had paid the hotel clerk to pull that little stunt just to get under Phi Phi’s skin. It smelled like Willam’s usual type of immature trolling. Just for fun, Phi Phi closed his eyes and imagined greeting Willam with a punch to the face and a kick to the stomach. How satisfying it would be to see the stupid cunt bleed and cry…and collapse on the floor, chest heaving, tanned skin sweating with fear, glistening invitingly…

“Gross,” Phi Phi spat to himself, wiping his mind clean of the filth that had tried to creep up on him. The elevator dinged and its doors slid open and Phi Phi strode down the hall with long purposeful strides, his mind struggling to comprehend his mix of hatred and animalistic lust for Willam. Soon he found himself standing outside a door with a fancy old-fashioned key lock, bearing the numbers _401_ in elegant script. Before Phi Phi could knock, the door swung open.

“Oh, look who showed up!” 

Willam, fresh-faced and out of drag, was wearing a pair of tight black jeans and his Courtney Act American Apparel shirt. _You’ve got more talent on your shirt than you do in the rest of your body. And that fishy Aussie skank just coasts on her pretty face, so that’s saying a lot,_ he wanted to sneer. Willam’s real hair was lighter than Phi Phi had ever seen it, bleached down to the roots and swooping over his forehead in an effortlessly natural way and shining like molten gold in the shitty fluorescent lighting of the hotel corridor. 

“Nice hair,” Phi Phi commented dryly. “Going for the Sharon Needles bleached-out methhead look?”

“Oh, we’re gonna talk about hair? What the fuck did you do to your mop, Jaremi? Looks like you’re trying to go for a homeless prostitute version of Violet Chachki.”

Phi Phi flushed. He loved his purple hair. “Violet copied _me_. Nobody knew who she was until this year. I’ve rocked the purple a few times.” It was a lame reply, and he knew it. So did Willam.

“That comeback was worse than the shit you spewed during the Reading is Fundamental game.” Willam leaned against the doorframe insolently, sipping a glass of something clear and sparkling. He smacked his lips in appreciation and studied Phi Phi from head to toe with a condescending little shrug. “So you came. What for?”

“I seem to recall you inviting me.”

“Yeah.” Willam studied him more closely and his lips turned down into a little moue. “God, you’re uglier than I remember. Haven’t seen you in a while. Not that you’ve really done much since Drag Race.” Phi Phi bristled, but before he could reply Willam broke into song. Phi Phi’s song. “ _You can call me bitchyyy…but I get what I want!_ Not bad. I’m sure your eight thousand YouTube subscribers loved it. I’m almost at half a million subs, so I don’t know what mediocrity is like, but you’re used to it, aren’t you?”

“You’re the loser who got kicked off Ru’s show for not being able to keep your legs shut, and now you’re hooking up with better queens and copying better YouTubers for your stupid solo show. You don’t know what mediocrity is like? Please. Maybe your name is better known than mine, but fame and infamy are two very different things.”

“Not really, when you come down to it.” Willam yawned. “Are you gonna come in or what?”

“Come in for what?” 

“A cup of tea and some crocheting. What the fuck do you think? You obviously had something to say down at the club. You couldn’t keep your eyes off me. Either you want to talk, you want to fight, or you want to fuck.”

“Are you that deluded? Nobody was looking at you except the people who were wondering how much your mouth cost for a quickie in the back alley, since you looked like the cheapest thing in the room.” 

“Jealousy is such a terrible thing, Jaremi. It’ll ruin your brain and turn your heart black…if you had a brain or a heart in the first place.” 

“I’m not fucking jealous!” Phi Phi stepped forward aggressively and shut the door behind him.

“You sound like a whiny little bitch to me, if you – ”

Willam’s voice cut off as Phi Phi lunged forward, surprising both men. His hands found Willam’s throat and squeezed viciously until colour bloomed high on Willam’s cheekbones and his piercing blue eyes widened comically. Phi Phi enjoyed a brief moment of satisfaction at the older man’s suffering before a knee suddenly shot up, smashing painfully into Phi Phi’s crotch.

“You always fight like a little girl?” Phi Phi gasped through the pain, struggling to breathe. He managed to keep his grip steady, cutting off Willam’s oxygen completely. Willam made a choked noise of protest, music to Phi Phi’s ears, and soon his eyes began to glaze over. Seizing his advantage, Phi Phi forced the blonde backwards, pinning him against the wall without loosening his grip. Willam’s knees buckled and he began to slide downward. Full of satisfaction, Phi Phi knelt with him, letting both of their bodies gently collapse onto the floor.

A sudden burst of resistance caught Phi Phi by surprise as Willam landed a surprisingly strong right hook into the side of his head. With a sharp groan, Phi Phi released Willam’s throat and backhanded him across the mouth, whipping his head to the side. A vicious game of submission followed as the two men struggled for control on the blue carpeted floor of Willam’s hotel room. Phi Phi couldn’t remember ever feeling like this before. He felt high as a kite, too full of adrenaline to feel the pain of Willam’s kicks and punches. In his pants, his cock was stirring with interest. He felt like a complete animal, a snarling wildcat. Fighting wasn’t something he had a lot of experience with, but it seemed like he was actually winning.

After a few moments of wrestling, Phi Phi found himself on top, straddling Willam’s legs, supported by his hands planted on either side of Willam’s head. He blinked, suddenly aware of the sheen of sweat across his upper lip. Willam’s lean, golden body lay stretched out beneath him, back arched invitingly, eyes hooded. Straight blonde hair stuck to his forehead in a way that somehow managed to look sexy instead of dishevelled. “Stupid spray-tanned bearded Barbie,” he growled, licking his dry lips and trying to keep his eyes on Willam’s face. “I won, bitch. You talk a good game but you’re not so tough after all, are you?”

The handsome blonde smirked and tilted his chin up. “Bearded? I’m smooth all over, girl. Touch me and find out.” He pursed his lips teasingly. There was no sign that he was in any distress, despite the rough treatment he had just endured.

“Nobody wants to touch you, you diseased cow.”

“I think little Phi Phi wants a hell of a lot more than to just touch me, actually.” Quick as a wink, Willam’s hand was between Phi Phi’s legs, cupping the hardening manhood within his trousers. 

“You’re a slut,” Phi Phi tried to sneer, but his voice came out like a papery whisper. He reddened. 

“Guilty,” Willam sang, elongating the last syllable in a ridiculous caricature of a campy voice.

“You’re that desperate for cock?” Phi Phi stifled a moan as Willam’s skilled fingers stroked him. “Where’s your husband?”

“Not here, obviously, or I’d be busy trying to figure out how to scrub your blood out of the upholstery without breaking a nail.”

“Oh, he’s the tough one? Gotta have someone bigger and stronger than you, huh? Big sugar daddy, buying you shoes and being your bodyguard so you can run your mouth off to people that could turn you into a bloody pulp.”

“He’s tougher than you. And he chokes me harder. You’ve got the hands of a Nike factory worker. At least when people forget about you in another year or so you know you can always find a job in a sweatshop somewhere.”

“Well, if he’s not here, I guess you’re fucking helpless. Face it, Willam, you know nothing except how to punch in your PIN when you buy whatever ugly shit the salespeople at Neiman Marcus push on you.”

“Helpless?” Willam licked his lips slowly, deliberately. “Maybe I am. What an opportunity, Jaremi. What are you gonna do to me?”

“I’m gonna give you exactly what you’re asking for,” Phi Phi growled. “I’m gonna make you scream and cry and come all at once.”

“Come on then, big boy. What’re you waitin’ for? I’m a busy girl and I don’t have all day.” Willam’s nails dug into Phi Phi’s shoulder blades painfully, making the other man wince and growl. He grabbed both of Willam’s wrists and forced them against the carpet high above his head. Willam sucked his bottom lip between his teeth sensually, holding eye contact as he arched up off the floor to let Phi Phi lift his shirt over his head When he encountered no resistance or smart-aleck comments, even when his hands went to the button of Willam’s pants, Phi Phi blinked and wondered for the first time if Willam had been expecting this. 

“Careful, fuck, these are Balmain!” Willam cried as Phi Phi ripped the zipper down and yanked his pants off.

“I don’t give a shit.” Phi Phi pinched one of his pink nipples before tearing off the black lace panties Willam wore underneath those precious Balmain jeans. The blonde’s arousal sprang forth eagerly. “Fuck, you love being treated like a slut, don’t you?”

Willam sneered, but didn’t reply. He lay sullenly on his back as Phi Phi stood up to get his own clothes off.

“Lube’s in the nightstand,” Willam managed to say as he watched Phi Phi strip. 

“Fuck lube.” Phi Phi spit into his hand, but his mouth was a little dry and he didn’t get much. “I’ve got an idea,” he said, and before Willam could say anything else Phi Phi dropped back down to his knees, straddling Willam’s head. The tip of his erection rubbed up against Willam’s lips, and the blonde turned his face to the side to avoid it. 

“Suck me,” Phi Phi ordered him.

“No.”

“Fucking do it, or it’s going in dry!”

“You wouldn’t,” Willam’s eyes narrowed. It was hard for him to look angry with a cock pressed firmly into his cheek.

“Try me,” Phi Phi whispered, and stared hard into Willam’s eyes. Maybe Willam saw something in his gaze that made him realize Phi Phi met business, because he sucked in a short breath and nodded slightly. “Ready to cooperate? Good. Open up.” 

Willam just barely parted his lips and Phi Phi’s cock slid between them immediately. His mouth was hot and wet and velvety, absolutely divine. Willam’s tongue spasmed against the rigid flesh as Phi Phi pushed in and hit the back of his throat, eliciting a gag and a whimper.

“Get it nice and wet, slut,” Phi Phi told him, revelling in his position of power. “It’s all the lube you get. You don’t deserve gentle.”

Willam’s hands clenched into fists, but he obeyed and sloppily sucked without enthusiasm. Phi Phi lingered inside for longer than necessary, rocking his hips gently and watching himself slide in and out of Willam’s mouth. If he really wanted to, Willam could have struggled and bucked Phi Phi off or lifted his hands to push him away. Keeping this in mind, Phi Phi dared to thrust forward viciously, pushing past the resistance at the back of Willam’s throat and burying himself completely inside. It felt incredible. He couldn’t help but begin to fuck Willam’s throat eagerly as the blonde breathed hard through his nose. On the last thrust, his eyes teared up, and Phi Phi felt he’d had enough.

Excess saliva dripped from Phi Phi’s shaft and landed on Willam’s nose as the younger man finally pulled out. Willam screwed up his face in disgust and wiped it off. “Gross,” he muttered, his voice a little rough from the throat-fucking.

“Legs up,” Phi Phi commanded, and patted one of Willam’s thighs in encouragement. “Yep, like that, you know what to do.”

When Willam’s ankles were resting on his shoulders, Phi Phi reached down and took his cock in hand, stroking a few times before lining the head up at Willam’s opening. He teased a bit, rubbing his cock back and forth across the pink rosebud. It was tempting to slap Willam around a bit, maybe make him beg for his cock, but his own increasing desire was too much to resist. 

“Fucking finally,” Phi Phi had to groan as he pressed forward and in, easily sliding past the tight ring of muscles at Willam’s entrance. Willam groaned sharply, and Phi Phi restrained from thrusting immediately. “Does that hurt?” he had to ask. He wasn’t a mean guy, and he wasn’t against a fair fight with Willam, but he wasn’t going to actually rape the man. If Willam really didn’t want this, he’d stop. 

“Girl, you think you’re packing a fat juicy summer sausage when all I feel is a Slim Jim,” Willam laughed and tightened himself around Phi Phi’s manhood. “Yeah, right. I barely feel it.” To prove his point, Willam tightened his legs around Phi Phi’s waist and began to rock down hard on every thrust without so much as a wince. It felt so damn good that Phi Phi couldn’t stop himself from moaning.

“Fucking – cunt – ah, ah, fuck, Willam!” 

“Yeah, bitch, that’s my name, don’t wear it out.” There was a slight hitch in his stupid drawling voice that gave Phi Phi a delicious thrill. Whatever front he was putting on, Willam liked this. The cock-crazed whore loved the feeling of getting fucked by _anyone._ And Phi Phi wasn’t about to go around bragging about being huge, but his dick certainly wasn’t small. If anything, Willam’s was smaller. Pretty, though, with a nice graceful upward curve and a delicately flared rosy head. His sack hung heavy and big below. Everything was waxed to perfection. It was hard not to stare at it. Phi Phi told himself that it was natural – dick was dick, and he loved dick, so it wasn’t shameful to admit to liking Willam’s. 

“Enjoying the view?” purred Willam, twisting one of his hands down between them to stroke his hard shaft with his French-manicured fingers. “You like that, Jaremi?”

“I do,” Phi Phi had to confess. “If I had a paper bag to put over your head right now this might be pretty hot. Fucking butterface.”

“From across the room, with glaucoma, I could pass for Jessica Simpson,” Willam cheerfully agreed. “My face ain’t cute but I got a body half the world would sell their souls to Satan for.” His little smirk _was_ almost cute, though. For the first time Phi Phi saw a glimpse of what Willam’s thirsty fans saw in him. There was a boyish charm in his eyes and a surprisingly feminine beauty to his light eyebrows when he scrunched them slightly. The cheekbones were well-constructed and his nose average if a little too highly placed on his face. The high-set nose emphasized the lower half of his face, ruining the girlishness of it all. The strong jaw and stubborn beard shadow were possibly his biggest flaws, but somehow they worked. As a drag queen, Willam was generic at best, unless made up by better people. In his music videos, having his hair and face styled by Oscar-nominated stylists, he was undeniably pretty. As a man, his face stood out despite, or perhaps because of, the imperfections juxtaposed with the startlingly beautiful features. It was unforgettable.

Phi Phi wanted more. The little moans Willam was making sounded faker than a female porn star’s orgasm, or as canned and rehearsed as everything that came out of Courtney Act’s mouth. He needed to know what Willam really sounded like when he was being stuffed full of cock so hard and fast that he didn’t know what to do with himself. “If you can still talk I’m not fucking you hard enough. Turn over,” Phi Phi snapped.

Willam’s forehead creased as Phi Phi pulled out, but for once he obeyed without protest and rolled over onto his stomach. Sticking his smooth, pert ass up in the air slightly, Willam nudged his thighs apart and waited. Phi Phi could see the slippery pink hole gaping open slightly. Stretched open, fuck, from Phi Phi’s own cock. The sight was beyond description. Phi Phi licked his lips and tried not to let his wonderment reveal itself. 

“Gonna do something, or are you going soft on me already?”

“Close your whore legs,” he ordered curtly, and moved so that his own legs were on the outside with Willam’s pinned between. “This oughta tighten your loose ass up,” Phi Phi told him. 

“My loose ass?! If your dick wasn’t so pathetic – mmmmf!” Whatever insult Willam was about to say was stifled by Phi Phi pushing on the back of his head and pressing his face into the carpet. With one hand the younger man guided himself back into place and pushed inside with renewed zeal, revelling in the increased tightness and the little cry that spilled from Willam’s lips when Phi Phi’s hips were flush against his buttocks.

“Mmm, ohhh,” Phi Phi groaned as he closed his eyes and gently rocked his hips back and forth, savouring the heat and the silky feeling of Willam’s ass clenching around his length. “Fuck, yeah, Willam.”

With his head still being held down, Willam could only groan and mumble something inaudibly. Phi Phi liked the sound of his muffled voice. “Shit, I should’ve gagged you with your own panties. You’re so much hotter when you can’t talk.” Willam tried to twist his head away, growling into the carpet as some of his hairs ripped out in Phi Phi’s hands. It had to be pretty painful, with the way Phi Phi’s thrusts were rubbing his face hard across the carpet. Phi Phi wasn’t a complete asshole, though. He only kept his grip steady for another minute before letting go.

Willam turned his head to the side as soon as Phi Phi released his hair. “Bitch! You gave me rug burn on my motherfucking face!”

“Whoops,” Phi Phi deadpanned, running his hands up Willam’s back almost gently, caressing his chiseled shoulder blades. “I thought you liked it rough.”

“My face is my moneymaker. Don’t fuck it up.”

“Your face is the butt of jokes in every queen’s dressing room from here to New York.”

“At least they all know my name. At least I’m being talked about in ‘every queen’s dressing room’. Jealous, Jaremi?”

“Shut up, you cheap bitch,” Phi Phi said with a sharp smack to Willam’s backside. “That’s enough. I’m not interested in your grade school comedy. I’m interested in fucking you so hard that you can’t walk in your precious Louboutins for over a week.”

Willam’s wisecracks quickly turned into high, breathless noises of pleasure as Phi Phi pounded him, driving in and out relentlessly. “Oh shit, oh fuck, yes, right there,” he gasped. The movement was causing the carpet to roughly scrape Willam’s bare skin every time Phi Phi plunged inside, but this time the man wasn’t bitching about it. Imagining Willam’s flawless skin all covered in an irritated carpet burn, Phi Phi couldn’t help but bare his teeth in a grin and fuck him harder.

Willam managed to turn his head to the side. His face was flushed and his brow scrunched in unabashed pleasure. Wetness matted his eyelashes together into little spikes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Willam chanted. “Fuck. I’m close. Keep hitting that spot – ohh yeah, right there, that’s good.” A deeper thrust made him tense up. “Ow, fuck,” Willam cried, and the wetness in his eyes finally gathered into a single tear that trickled down his flawless face.

“Yeah, cunt, cry for me, I want to see it,” grunted Phi Phi. 

“Aah, aah, oh fuck, yes!” Willam almost screamed suddenly. His backside arched up against Phi Phi’s crotch as the blonde desperately reached a hand beneath himself. The muscles in his toned upper arm flexed as he stroked his cock quickly, and it seemed like only seconds before he clenched down hard around Phi Phi’s cock as he reached his climax. Listening to Willam lose control made Phi Phi mad with desire. The front half of his body was suddenly unable to remain upright and Phi Phi ended up sprawled across Willam’s back, mouthing at the blonde’s sweaty neck as his hips thrust irregularly. Beneath him, Willam’s entire body trembled and twitched through the aftershocks, adding a new layer of sensation to Phi Phi’s enjoyment.

“Ooohhh…oh, Jaremi…” Willam’s voice broke as Phi Phi’s teeth sank into the nape of his neck. “Please…”

“Does that hurt?” Phi Phi whispered, pulling back just enough to admire the deeply imprinted ring of teeth marks left in Willam’s skin. 

“Y-yes!” Willam squirmed as Phi Phi bit him again where his neck and shoulder met, not letting go even when Willam began to buck and make a high-pitched keening noise. This kind of sex wasn’t really Phi Phi’s thing – he wasn’t a sadist or anything – but the feeling of being in control of Willam’s pleasure and pain, of feeling his lithe little body struggling feebly beneath his own, of the way Willam kept arching into every thrust of Phi Phi’s cock despite himself, made this the best lay he’d ever had.

“Uhhnn, yes, fuck, fuck,” Phi Phi’s eyes rolled back in his head as his orgasm crashed into him, sudden and so intense that he seemed to be deaf and blind for the ten long seconds it took to empty his seed into Willam’s tight and waiting asshole. When he came back to himself, little muscle twitches zinging through his body like electricity, he felt like he’d just run a marathon. 

Willam lay still and limp underneath him, his back heaving. The last bite had drawn blood and the crimson fluid was shockingly bright against his skin. There wasn’t much, and he didn’t seem to be in any real distress, so Phi Phi didn’t worry. Trembling, Phi Phi carefully extracted himself. His limbs suddenly seemed boneless, and he collapsed next to Willam, trying to catch his breath. The blonde’s eyes were shut tight, a look of astonished pleasure on his flawless face. His mouth hung open, wanton and slutty. Heat flared in Phi Phi’s stomach at the sight of Willam so vulnerable. As if sensing Phi Phi’s gaze, one bright blue eye blinked open, and a smile broke out across that pretty face. Willam raised one arm and reached out towards the spent brunette.

“Mmm,” Phi Phi closed his eyes as Willam’s fingers gently raked through his sweaty hair, long nails leaving light scratches that tingled wonderfully. At that moment, Phi Phi forgot that he hated Willam’s guts. The man was beautiful like this. On the stage, in the club, on camera, he was as fake as Michelle Visage’s tits and more annoying than Laganja’s emotional breakdowns. Here, naked and conquered and needy, Willam was like an angel with its wings clipped. _You know your place, don’t you? On your knees or on your back._ The two of them had fought for dominance and Phi Phi had won. And Willam seemed to be happy with his submission. 

Caught in the delicious afterglow of his orgasm, Phi Phi kind of…wanted to _cuddle._ Eyes still closed, he reached out his arms pleadingly, clumsily grabbing the blonde’s slim waist. His thumbs stroked the smooth skin there, and Willam hummed softly at the feeling. Phi Phi pulled the man closer, pressing their lower bodies together despite the mess of sweat and come and spit.

“Willam…” he moaned, leaning in for a kiss. Willam ducked his head away teasingly, leaving Phi Phi to lightly mouth at his jaw and down his neck. He smelled so good.

“The bed’s over there,” Willam squirmed wonderfully in Phi Phi’s arms. “C’mon…stand up and lets go relax for a bit.”

“Oh…kay….” Phi Phi let Willam haul him to his feet and lead him forward. The scent of sex and crisp eucalyptus – probably from Willam’s shampoo or something – filled his nostrils, distracting him from the fact that he wasn’t being led to Willam’s inviting king-size bed, but to the front door. It wasn’t until he was standing butt naked in the hotel hallway that Phi Phi opened his eyes and came back to reality with a start.

“Bye Felicia,” Willam sang, and slammed the door. Phi Phi heard the click of a lock and then the ugly metallic grating of a deadbolt sliding into place. Blood rushed to his face as he realized what had happened.

“You _cunt_!” he howled at the door, pounding both fists on it as hard as he could. “You disgusting piece of gutter trash! Let me back in! _Give me back my clothes!_ ”

From inside, he heard Willam’s ugly laugh. “Girl, where did you get this? Walmart? The Salvation Army homeless shelter? I think this fabric is giving my delicate skin a rash. And you’ve got a skid mark in your goddamn dollar store tighty-whities. I’m glad I didn’t top. It’s called hygiene, girl. Baby wipes. Fleet enemas. Some breath mints while you’re at it, I almost gagged when you were panting in my face like a horny St. Bernard.”

“Fuck you! Give them back! For god’s sake, Willam, this isn’t funny!”

“Actually, it’s fucking hilarious. ‘Oooh, Phi Phi! Please, oh yes!’” Willam imitated his own sex noises in an exaggerated high pitched voice. “Please, bitch, you’re not that good. I had to think real hard about that time Sharon fucked me over the washing machine set on the spin cycle just to get myself off.”

“You loved it!”

“I needed to come, and I needed to get your guard down.” Willam’s smirk was almost visible through the door. “Call me an opportunist, cause I got exactly what I wanted. And you! You actually enjoyed that, didn’t you? I knew you always wanted me. Aw, and you’re a little cuddler after sex! That’s kind of adorable. Too bad nobody wants to be that close to you. Sociopathic, hateful, jealous little boy. Nobody likes you, but maybe your cell mate will.”

“Cell mate?”

“You’re naked and screaming like a lunatic in a hotel hallway. The first person to see you is gonna call the cops. Shit, I should go make some popcorn to watch this go down. Hmmm. White cheddar or extra spicy? Maybe I should be healthy and just make the plain stuff…”

Outwitted. Outmanoeuvred. And by Willam fucking Belli! The dumb blonde shoe hoarder who couldn’t control himself long enough to make it through one season of Drag Race? Miss American Apparel, who coasted by on Alaska’s eccentric charm and Courtney’s perfectly fishy beauty? And Phi Phi had actually started to be nice to him! He’d been _concerned_ about hurting Willam! Oh, it was too much. Phi Phi wanted to scream and tear his hair out. Better yet, tear Willam’s hair out. Scalp him. Break his face ‘till he had to get more plastic surgery than Detox to fix the damage.

A panicked face appeared briefly at the end of the hallway. It was a young woman with short brown hair and a blue shirt bearing the hotel’s name and logo on the breast pocket, pushing a cart full of cleaning supplies. Oh, shit, a hotel maid. Phi Phi groaned inwardly, wishing he could just melt into a puddle or Disapparate like Harry Potter. When the maid saw Phi Phi, her jaw dropped. Before she could scream, Phi Phi tried to come up with a plausible story.

“Miss! Miss! Please help! I got locked out of my room! Please, open this door for me! You have a master key? Here, just toss it! Please!” Facing the woman and covering himself with his hands, Phi Phi backed away as if urging the maid to come forward, bare ass hanging out for any departing or arriving guest to see. The maid didn’t seem mollified by Phi Phi’s story, and she too began to step backward with her hands up pleadingly.

“Sir, please, don’t hurt me!”

“I’m not trying to hurt any – ”

“Help! Help!” Willam yelled from just behind his door. “Someone’s trying to break in my room!”

The maid’s eyes grew even bigger. “Dios mio!” 

Other doors along the hallway began to crack open as guests overheard the ruckus. Phi Phi found himself surrounded by shocked, disgusted eyes everywhere he looked.

“Good god, honey, there’s a naked man out there!” an older man’s voice cut through the whispers and giggles.

Willam’s dramatic cries continued. “Somebody help! He tried to force his way in here! I think he’s high on something!”

“I’m calling security!” the older man yelled.

“Call the police!” a woman screamed.

“I’m switching hotels. This is unacceptable. Why is nobody coming to stop this methhead? Who let him in?” Another woman.

Phi Phi was dripping with sweat and on the verge of tears. “I swear, I just got locked out by accident!”

“Liar!” a more familiar woman yelled. It was the front desk receptionist. “You said you were visiting a friend! You don’t know Willam at all, do you? Oh my god! Did you try to hurt him?!”

“Lock your doors!”

“What’s the number for hotel security?”

“I called them, don’t worry!”

“I called 911!”

“Burglar! Rapist! Help!” Willam continued to warble.

“Willam!” Phi Phi shrieked. “I swear to God, I am going to get back in there, and when I do I’m gonna castrate you and sell you to the fucking circus as the famous bearded lady!” Immediately he knew he’d made a mistake. At his words, the horde of hotel guests and employees erupted into panicked clucking. 

“Was that really the best you have?” Willam asked in a quieter voice, with great interest. “Beard jokes? Again? How long were you sitting on that one? You got the famous part spot-on though. Points for you.” 

For the next twenty minutes, Phi Phi had to endure jeers, shocked whispers, and threats coming from all around him as he stood looking like the world’s biggest douchebag. A large man emerged from his room, looking like an inbred gorilla and cracking his knuckles menacingly.

“Stay where you are, dirtbag. My wife is in here and you are not going to be bothering anyone else until the cops show up. And you’re not getting into that young man’s room. Jeeze! I feel bad for celebrities these days, having to deal with crazy fans like this!”

“Celebrities?” someone else asked him. “Who’s a celebrity?”

“The guy in the room this freak was trying to break into.”

“Did someone say Willam? Like Willam Belli? From Drag Race? Oh my gosh, I love him! Save Willam!”

Horrified, humiliated, and scared witless, Phi Phi buried his face in his hands until he became aware of several loud, confident voices coming closer and closer. One of them appeared to be talking into a two-way radio. Oh, Christ, it was the cops. The onlookers disappeared with a rapid-fire series of clicks as their doors shut. His knees turned to jelly as fear overwhelmed him. Here he was, naked, covered in bodily fluids, glasses askew and his hair looking like something died in it. As the two police officers rounded the corner and converged upon Phi Phi with menacing faces, Willam’s perfectly coiffed head popped out of his room. He was wearing a crisp collared shirt, more conservative than Phi Phi had ever seen him. Some dim corner of Phi Phi’s mind was coherent enough to marvel that Willam Belli owned men’s dress shirts. It was probably Versace or some shit. But still. It was out of character. 

“Thank you for coming so quickly, officers,” Willam’s voice sounded clear and more deeply pitched. Instead of the trashy drag queen Phi Phi knew, he sounded almost like a man. It’d be impressive if Phi Phi wasn’t about to be arrested and jailed for being naked and disorderly in a shitty hotel hallway somewhere outside Burbank. “This is the man who was trying to force his way into my room. I think he was harassing the maid, too.”

““Thank you, sir, we’ll take care of this,” one officer said with a stiff smile and a slight nod. Phi Phi stared wide-eyed at the wall. “Mr…Belli?”

“Yes, officer.”

“Would you like to come downstairs to give a statement?” the cop asked gently.

“If it’s okay, I’d rather wait until my husband gets back. I’m a little shaken up.”

“That’s perfectly fine, sir.”

“Oh, thank you, officer.”

Of all the fucking times for Willam to pull some real acting skills out of his ass. He almost wanted to laugh. _My life is ruined,_ Phi Phi thought numbly. “You…you… _I’m going to fucking kill you, Willam!_ ”

Willam gasped dramatically and slammed the door as if terrified.

“Down on the ground! Hands behind your head! Move! Now!” the fatter cop began to yell. Terrified, Phi Phi complied. As his forehead pressed into the dirty blue carpet of the hotel hallway, all he could hear was Willam’s laughter. Within a heartbeat his hands were cuffed and Phi Phi was being forcibly pulled to his feet and dragged away. Willam’s door cracked open once again as the older man watched him go with sparkling amusement in his eyes.

“Now, sashay away,” Willam sang, raising his smooth manicured hand in a dismissive little finger wave. The sound of his laughter seemed to follow Phi Phi all the way from the hotel to the squad car and to the downtown police station. It haunted him for the rest of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Team Willam forever, bitches. Please comment and let me know what you think!


End file.
